Disaster
by Lee Isidor
Summary: Drabble - Tyki and Kanda attempt to paint their apartment. The result is a disaster. And yes, this is who you think it is. TykiKanda


**Lee Isidor: **Guess who's ba-ack... ;DDD

**5. **Some of you are going to recognize this numbering. And the writing style. And the pairing. Yes. It _is _me, just on a different account. My parents found out about my writing, so I had to take everything down and it wasn't cool. D: But now I'm back. So just you wait.

**6. **Sketchy Theater will be back. I'm going to re-vamp it, and re-do a few chapters, and then it'll be back up like nothing ever happened. C: But there might be a few changes, and I'm hoping ya'll won't mind. Pass it around that Lee Isidor is the new Keyte.

**7. **Remember - give me suggestions. You give me suggestions, I churn out more drabbles. ;D

_**Disclaimer**_**: I do not own DGM. Still. Still don't want to. Hoshino, please get better. That was a horrible cliffy to leave us at. D:**

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****Disaster**

It was safe to say that their relationship was a disaster.

"Pick up the damn room, Tyki!" Kanda yelled from the other room.

Okay, maybe it wasn't their _relationship_, per se...

The long-haired man marched into the room, stopping in the doorway. He put his hands on his hips, frowning at the curly-haired man. He always seemed to be frowning lately. Maybe it had been a bad idea to suggest re-painting the apartment. Tyki straightened up, drawing his eyes away from the younger man and pretending to examine the table. Kanda drew himself up to his full height, pursing his lips. He didn't look quite unlike an angry housewife – but then again, Tyki supposed, that was practically what he _was_. Hence the disaster.

"Where's the white paint?" Kanda asked impatiently. One of his feet was tapping on the wooden floor with a rhythmic 'tat-tat-tat.' He was dressed in a pair of loose black pants with frayed ends and a t-shirt with no sleeves; paint was splattered on it, and there was even a smudge on his cheek. The older man smiled at that.

The Portuguese man shrugged languidly. "I don't know. Where did you put it?" He countered, running a finger down the door frame. They had painted all the door frames the day before and the bedroom too. The bedroom had been an utter _disaster_. They had moved the bed, the dresser, the nightstand, and all the things on the floor to get them out of the way, and then they had moved it all back. Only they had forgotten in what order it went, so the room felt different.

Kanda crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his dark eyes. "_I _left it back on the kitchen counter, but it just fucking _disappeared_." There was venom in those words, Tyki would give him that. "It damn well didn't grow legs and walk off."

Tyki brought his hands together slowly, raising an eyebrow. "What a sharp mind you have there, Kanda. You ever thought about playing 'Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader' or something?"

The long-haired man took a few steps forward, then decided better of it and turned back to exit the room. "Can you just fuckin' _find _it?"

"It's on the counter where you left it," Tyki said lazily, following the younger man out of the room. Kanda marched to the kitchen, scowling, and sure enough, the can of paint was sitting on top of the morning newspaper. "See? What did I tell you?"

The Japanese man merely pursed his lips and grabbed the paint can. He lugged it back into the small breakfast nook, the room they had decided to paint that morning, and placed it gently on the kitchen table. "Well?" He said impatiently, turning to the older man and giving him an expectant look. "Where the fuck are the paintbrushes?"

Tyki laughed, shaking his head. "Not very on top of things this morning, are you?"

The other's lips quirked into something resembling a smirk. "On 'top' of things, you say?"

"Heh... that wasn't a suggestion." The older man walked back into the kitchen; he found the brushes soaking in the sink, exactly where _he _had left them the night before. The curly-haired man shook them out and dried them before taking the paintbrushes back to his waiting partner. He gave Kanda a brush, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his smooth cheek.

The younger man scowled. "Don't. You have work to do."

Tyki chuckled against the other's ear. "Can I..." Kanda's shoulders stiffened at the way he posed the question, and he grinned. "Can I turn on the radio?"

Kanda shoved him away, eyes narrowed into a glare. "I don't care," he muttered, dipping the paintbrush into their shared bucket. "As long as you don't put on anything stupid."

The other fiddled with their clock radio for a few moments, finally settling on some soft classical. He didn't recognize the tune, but it was light and soothing, and it would, at the very least, help them get through the disaster that was painting the kitchen without too many... _problems_. They had a penchant for bickering, really, and the way they fought sometimes – well, he didn't want the paint can to get knocked over.

"You have a nice ass, Kanda," Tyki said appreciatively as the younger man stooped to paint a spot lower on the wall. Kanda glanced up at him with an irritated expression. "No, really. You do."

"Fuck you," Kanda replied, shaking his head. His high ponytail swung between his shoulder blades, catching the light. "Shut up and paint the wall."

"Yes _sir_," he teased, poking the other's butt with the handle of his paintbrush before obeying.

The younger man flicked his brush against his palm, painting it white. Then he reached out and placed a half-hearted slap on Tyki's old black t-shirt. The white handprint stood out horribly, and he had a nagging feeling that they were going to be covered with paint by the end of the day.

"Do you want to be a ghost for Halloween, Kanda?" He asked flippantly.

"Shut up and paint."

"Yes _sir_."

But he knew, by the end of the day, that they would be a mess. What a _disaster_.

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Sorry the ending sucks. xDD

Review. You know I like it.


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